Sucker Love
by tatterdemalion
Summary: A "friends with benefits" situation of the bizarre kind has Prussia thinking this can't be for real and Canada scared that it is.
1. Sucker Love

**Title:** Sucker Love (Part 1)  
**Author:** me!  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters:** Prussia, Canada  
**Summary:** for prompt #47, "every you, every me" (64 damn prompts on LJ). Prussia thinks this can't be for real; Canada is scared it is.  
**Notes:** loosely based on Placebo's, "Every You Every Me".

* * *

_"Sucker love is known to swing,  
Prone to cling and waste these things.  
Pucker up for heaven's sake.  
There's never been so much at stake."_

* * *

Canada bites hard enough to draw blood, when one pushes him enough. Prussia, who is balls deep in the younger nation and pinning him by his throat to the coffee table, is certainly _pushing_. His neck aches - he's sure the bite will scab by morning, but Prussia merely lets a chuckle slide from his throat and presses down, earning himself a strangled sound from the body beneath him.

"Still angry?" he asks with a laugh. Canada pants, wriggles, claws at Prussia's forearm. Beneath the ex-nation's wiry frame, the blond has remained hard throughout everything - Prussia's telltale sign that the kid is still enjoying it. Prussia examines the way his fingers, pressed tightly against the soft underside of Canada's jaw, turn white with pressure.

"Well fuck, _I_ still am." Prussia proclaims, and loosens his grip just enough so that Canada can surge upwards and kiss him again. Canada tastes like alcohol and blood - the kid bites at his lip, bucks his hips forward and Prussia turns his face away, grabs the squirming nation under him and slams him down flat on the coffee table.

Canada gasps, the wind knocked out of him - but that same fucking smile still curls up the edges of his mouth and Prussia, annoyed and maybe more than a little turned on, begins fucking him with abandon, shoving himself into the blond, hands tight on his forearms.

It was Canada, surprisingly, who had thought this whole arrangement up - originally it had been arranged as a few blows to let off steam ("you're angry, and I'm angry", the blond had told him as he tenderly prodded his broken nose. "We can help each other."), secretive meetings at an abandoned campground or Canada's wilderness. Prussia, stinging from the loss of his land and constantly wondering when Germany would grow annoyed of him and give him the axe (literally? Figurative? Prussia wasn't sure), was more than happy to oblige this self-righteous, goody-goody little nation.

"What the fuck could _you_ possibly be angry about?" Prussia had demanded right after he had broken Canada's nose - it was only when the blond clocked him in the jaw with enough force to almost shatter it had he realized that the little thing was serious. That was fine by him.

He wasn't sure when it progressed further - maybe when he discovered Canada liked being held down, maybe the time he wrenched the blond's arms behind his back and discovered he was hard, maybe (definitely) the time they had fought until they were breathless and then Prussia had fucked Canada so hard the young nation was limping for days - but whenever Canada called him to "invite him over for a movie" this was what they did instead of tussle.

It was nice - Canada didn't bother with small talk or "how are you"s, and neither did Prussia. Why should he? This was therapeutic and fun and nothing else. After they were done, Canada didn't ask him to stay, or ask to cuddle, or make him breakfast. They fucked, that was all.

Says Prussia. He doesn't think about how good Canada feels, how he's probably the best Prussia's had in years - fuck, maybe centuries. He doesn't think about how Canada's face, red from lack of oxygen or twisted in pleasure or snarling with frustration, ignites in him something he isn't used to feeling. To make up for this rather annoying spectrum of thoughts, he smacks his hand sharply across Canada's abdomen, watches the skin ripple and the way the blond eyebrows draw angrily together.

Prussia just smirks at him, finding his rhythm again, and Canada's brows slowly become unknotted - he leans his head back on the coffee table, sighing and moaning in a way that tells Prussia he's close.

Prussia's hand is getting tired of clenching Canada's throat and so he instead slips it to brace himself by the younger nation's head - Canada grabs his wrist in a no-nonsense grip and moves it back towards his neck, warm fingers on Prussia's thumb, and presses the digit hard against his Adam's apple.

The young nation's cock twitches, trapped between their bodies - he swallows, throat bobbing against Prussia's fingernail, gives a strangled shout, and comes.

As Canada bonelessly flops his limbs back down, Prussia grabs his hair and twists his head up, snarling, "You're not done yet!"

Obligingly, Canada makes a weak effort to move, stomach muscles trembling. He hangs onto Prussia's shoulders, presses their bodies close, and squeezes his thighs together. Huffing a harsh sigh into the blond's hair, Prussia thrusts his way to much-needed completion.

Not one of their better attempts, he thinks wryly as he slides out of the kid, but that might be because Canada had threatened him quite colourfully prior to this about what would happen if the coffee table had been broken. Something about seeing Canada lie there, sprawled out on the coffee table, panting and trailing a shaking hand over his stomach, was making Prussia think about another round.

"What?" Canada asks with a little laugh, catching him staring - Prussia follows the path of the blond's fingers as they trail languidly across his belly button.

"Hn, nothing. I didn't break your fucking table, you happy?" he demands, rising to his feet and shaking out his cramping hand.

It's strange, he thinks, what a mood swing Canada goes through - a half hour ago he was clawing at Prussia's back and leaving teeth indentations on his neck; now Canada looks almost shy and sheepish, naked as the day he was born, lying on a coffee table (_a coffee table he had used while entertaining guests, maybe even his own family!_), the promises of bruises on his throat and the look of a freshly fucked man.

Canada gives a little half-smile, already getting up to look for his glasses (which Prussia had thrown over near the sofa, fuck all if he knew where they were). The coffee table creaked dangerously. Prussia rooted around one of the chairs for his boxers.

They don't speak any more than that - when Prussia is ready he gets up, half-heartedly clears his throat, and makes for the door. As usual, Canada follows him, and says, "Thank you" before closing the door.

And that should be enough. But somehow, today, Prussia does not feel sated, satisfied, at ease. The feeling in his gut has increased tenfold, and left him with something bitter in his mouth that he cannot place.

* * *

**Note:** This is just an idea I had...I'll have to see where it goes!


	2. Is Known to Swing

**Title**: Sucker Love (Part 2)  
**Author**: me!  
**Rating**: R  
**Characters**: Prussia, Canada  
**Summary**: for prompt #47, "every you, every me". Prussia thinks this can't be for real; Canada is scared it is.  
**Notes**: loosely based on Placebo's, "Every You Every Me". Warnings for rough sex, occasional violence and lots of swearing. Sorry!

* * *

Prussia punches hard, when pushed. Canada, scrabbling for purchase against his kitchen counter, arches and pants and swears in a mixture of French and English. Prussia laughs, rocks against him. The only bad thing about being bent over the counter is that he can't see Prussia's face, though he can certainly imagine it - the ex-nation's face twisted in that sneer, expression cocky.

Canada realized, early on, that he has a thing for arrogant, powerful nations - it is no wonder, he thinks, that he has a such a daddy complex.

It's been three months since he and Prussia started this whole thing - Canada is still not sure what prompted him to ask _Prussia_ of all people, a nation he rarely interacted with. It wasn't like he couldn't get violence _or_sex using the few connections he _did_ have - Holland was more than willing to fool around, and Canada knew that Russia liked a little bit of violence with his sex, or vice-versa. So why Prussia?

Maybe because Canada thought he could understand. He had seen a look in Prussia's eye - a flash, the way he held himself beside his brother, that made him think, _That's me. That's me, that's what I'll become if I don't **do something**, if I don't show the world that I'm here, I'm me. If I don't show **myself** that I'm here._

He is fully aware that he is taking advantage of Prussia, using him as relief. What he is also aware of is that he is growing more and more dependent on Prussia every time they meet, dependent on the way he fucks him, hits him, holds him. The itch that arose only once or twice a month now has Canada twiddling his thumbs every weekend, spending hours weeding the garden out back, going for runs, or doing paperwork that isn't due until next year, at least.

For now, though, Canada focuses on the feel of the callouses on Prussia's hands - one hand is on his hip, the other has wrenched the blond nation's arm behind his back and is pushing it so hard against his spine that the bones in his wrist are screaming in protest. Canada lets out a little yelp that turns into a purr as he feels Prussia's erection against his thighs.

"Ah - Prussia," he whimpers.

"Hm?" Prussia sounds out of breath, and lets go of Canada's hip in favor of roughly fingering him, without any warning. The pain shoots up Canada's spine, and he loves it. He pushes back, hoping to hit that spot inside him.

"Shit, Prussia...please...fuck me!" he gasps, twisting around to look at him and _fuck_ that smirk just sets him off. He wants to be fucked, and he wants to be fucked _now_.

He feels Prussia lean down, and when his earlobe is bitten he barely flinches, merely bucks. He can feel Prussia between his legs.

"Beg." Prussia commands, and Canada snarls.

"What the hell do you _think_ I'm doing?" he asks, wrenches his arm from behind his back and reaches behind him to grab Prussia's cock. "I swear to God, if you don't fuck me..."

"You know, that really doesn't sound like begging to me!" Prussia tells him, and smacks his hand away. "Can't dredge up some humility, or what?"

"You're one to talk!" Canada laughs, rutting against Prussia. "I can just do it myself, then."

"Oh really?" Prussia dislodges his fingers and twists both of Canada's arms behind his back. "Go ahead, then."

Canada struggles, smearing his face along the counter. An erratic elbow knocks his toaster onto the floor and Prussia gives a rude laugh.

"Okay, okay!" Canada finally breaks down, pushing himself up on the balls of his feet and wriggling his ass. "Please, please fuck me! I'm begging, see? _Prussia_!"

There is silence - Canada wriggles a bit more, hoping to entice.

"Say my name." Prussia says in a low voice.

"I did." Canada grinds out. "Are you going to fuck me or are we going to have a _conversation_?"

"No, not that one. The other one."

Canada freezes, debates the repercussions of such a personal name at such a potentially personal time. "Gilbert." he finally murmurs. "Gilbert, I'm serious, _fuck me_."

Prussia's name on the younger nation's lips makes him swell and he leans forward, eagerly, letting go of Canada's arms in favor of gripping his hips, steering Canada's ass to line up with his cock.

The sharp, painful pop of Prussia pressing through makes Canada whine, but makes it so much better. Next time, he thinks, he will have to make it so he can see Prussia's face - it's less satisfying when he's being fucked while looking at his kitchen cabinets. They need a new coat of paint and he's been deliberately putting it off for months.

Prussia's hand reaches around and squeezes his cock - Canada gasps, arches, coos.

"Harder." he orders, and Prussia is glad to oblige, stroking him, squeezing him, bringing their hips together until Canada isn't thinking about his kitchen cabinets anymore. He grips the counter so hard his knuckles are white.

"So tight." Prussia grunts behind him. "Fuck, Canada - Matt - "

Canada wants to protest at the use of his name but _damn_ if Prussia isn't doing great things with his cock, so he lets it slide.

"Harder, harder..." he repeats in a sort of mantra, and behind him Prussia laughs.

"Little slut, aren't you?" the way his voice dips down sends a delightful shock to Canada's groin. His fingers are starting to hurt from pressing against the counter.

"Yeah, I am." he whimpers. "Please..."

Prussia gladly obliges. "Yeah, you young nations are all the same," he crows, breathing heavy as he slams himself hard against Canada's thighs, the slapping of skin loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. "You're just begging for my five meters, huh?"

In any other circumstances, Prussia talking about his five meters would cause Canada to burst out laughing. But the authoritative tone that has crept into his voice has Canada hot and whimpering and rutting into his cabinets.

"So good," he hums breathlessly, grasping for his cock - his hand meets Prussia's, still wrapped steadily around Canada's organ, and he doesn't have the mind to be bothered about it, already riding the wave of an orgasm. Their hands remained joined, Canada's shaking and Prussia's still stroking him even after Canada is left panting, holding onto the counter for support.

Prussia is silent, save for a few grunts, but as he pulls out he puts his hand on Canada's lower back. He doesn't do anything else, and the warmth from his palm seeps into Canada's aching spine - the younger nation stills, wondering if the other wants a second round.

_What are you doing?_ Canada feels like asking as Prussia's thumb brushes gently against his hip. _This is not what we agreed on_.

Canada is about to say something when Prussia abruptly lifts his hand and smacks Canada across the ass, sending shock waves of pain up his still sensitive body. Canada can only manage a startled '_ooh_' before Prussia is pulling back.

"See you around, Matt!" Prussia laughs, voice sounding a bit too forced. Canada can only turn, incredulously, and watch Prussia saunter out of the kitchen, toned ass flexing as he walks (and yeah whatever Canada is staring, so what?)

Canada feels that this whole thing has gotten way, way more complicated than he ever would have imagined.**  
**


	3. Prone to Cling

******Title:** Sucker Love (Part 3)  
**Author:** me!  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters:** Prussia, Canada  
**Summary:** for prompt #47, "every you, every me". Prussia thinks this can't be for real; Canada is scared it is.  
**Notes:** loosely based on Placebo's, "Every You Every Me".  
**Warnings:** excessive swearing (sorry guys), hinted onesided Can/Am. Pussy-Prussia, violence.

* * *

Prussia won't admit he's worried about Canada, because he's not. It's just weird - he expects the North American brothers to be the less jaded of the countries, prone to excess and energy but certainly not as fucked up as the old men of Europe. And he certainly doesn't expect Canada to be harbouring a secret sado-masochistic fetish that coincides with intense internal anger. What happened to the shy doormat France likes to tell him about? As Canada takes a swing at Prussia's face, the ex-nation blocks his fist, counters with a hit to the gut; wheezing, Canada goes down. Prussia shoves him face down onto the living room floor.

"C'mon kid, I'm the _mother-fucking Prussian empire_." he crows triumphantly, shoving his toe under Canada's stomach and flipping him over. "You'll have to do better than that!"

"_Were_." Canada corrects with a wince, that same shit-eating grin crawling over his features. "You _were_ the mother-fucking Prussian empire."

Prussia kicks him in the face. Canada howls, twists on the floor as Prussia circles him, chuckling.

"You're a real piece of work, you little shit." he says conversationally as Canada struggles for breath - Prussia can see the blond's erection, heavy against the front of his jeans. "You act like a little fucking angel everywhere else you go, you practically shit rainbows, but now here you are in your very own Fight Club. Why can't you use these moves on your retard brother, huh?"

If it had been anyone else, Prussia would have missed the tenseness in Canada's jaw, the way the kid stilled, hand over his face to stop up his bleeding nose.

"What, you like being his passive little bitch?" Prussia half-jokes, and quiets when there is no answer. "Oh, seriously? You've got all this anger, you don't take it out on _him_? Unless...you really do like it?"

"Prussia, shut up." Canada mumbles, voice decreasing in volume.

"Aw," giddy with anger and amusement (and maybe a little annoyance because who the fuck looks _happy_ when his brother is walking all over him?), Prussia talks over him. "Lookit that, you're your brother's favourite doormat. Congratulations Matt, I bet you must be real proud. Bet you get a thrill out of that, huh?"

"Shut up." Canada's voice is barely a whisper now and Prussia never stops to think that maybe these fights are Canada's way of crying out for something besides long, lonely World Meetings and the awful feeling of not having a voice.

"Hell, I bet you keep wishing he'll stop and notice you." Prussia's eyes catch a framed photo of the brothers on the mantle, America's arm around Canada, the northern nation's face tilted up with a poorly concealed look of adoration.

"Or," Prussia presses his foot down on Canada's stomach as the blond attempts to struggle away, "I bet you want to get up the courage to ask him to do _this_ with you. Hm? Bet you've wished it was _his_ cock in your - "

Canada lashes out, kicks Prussia's knee out sideways and the ex-nation falls in a flurry of swears. Almost immediately Canada is straddling his torso, face red with shame and eyes bright.

"Shut up." he hisses through clenched teeth, punching Prussia in the face. "Shut up, shut up, shut _up_!" each outburst is spaced with a punch and Prussia's vision temporarily goes blurry. Canada's punches slow until he is merely perched on top of Prussia, breathing heavily.

"You don't know anything." Canada says, voice thick. "You - you have no fucking idea what I have to deal with, so just shut up - "

Prussia moans, licks up the blood that has bloomed from his nostrils, snatches Canada by his sweaty, tangled hair, and drags him down for a kiss. He is hard and ready, but Canada is unresponsive against his mouth, hands limp at his sides. Prussia rolls them over, splays Canada out on the floor - the kid's eyes are still angry and wet, and Prussia leans down to gently bite the bridge of his nose.

"Kid, that was _so hot_." he purrs. "C'mon, let's fuck."

Canada makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat, and lifts his arms to allow Prussia to peel off his shirt, examine with delight the dark bruises that litter his neck and chest from his months of handiwork. He pins Canada's wrists to the floor with ease, admiring the stretched, taut body beneath him.

Prussia slips into Canada easily, ignoring the unusual tenseness in Canada's muscles, something other than pain or anger. He is halfway to a very satisfying orgasm when he looks down and chances a glance at Canada's face.

The younger nation is not responding; his head is to the side, eyes clenched shut, eyelashes wet. Between their bodies, his erection has gone soft. Major warning.

Prussia, though his body screams at him to continue, reluctantly lets go of Canada's wrists. The kid slowly relaxes his face, opens his eyes. He looks absolutely miserable, Prussia realizes, and he wonders when that happened. Hardly believing himself he pulls out, erection dripping, and crouches there, waiting.

"Get out." Canada says, quietly. Prussia stares.

"What?" he asks, unsure, giving a loud, nervous laugh. "Kid, what did I say? C'mon, I was just messing with you."

"Get out, Prussia." Canada repeats, refusing to look at him. "We're done for today."

When Prussia finally manages to dazedly stumble to his feet, dress, and tie his jacket round his waist to hide the remnants of his erection, Canada is still sitting naked on his living room floor, a little calmer but eyes unfocused, staring in the direction of the mantle.

Prussia pauses, looks over, as if staring at the kid would help change his mind.

"_Look_ Canada, I - "

"Goodbye, Prussia." Canada's voice is airy but Prussia wisely takes that as his exit cue.

* * *

The rule is that Canada calls Prussia, and never the other way around. Usually Canada calls twice, maybe three times a month; never less and usually never more.

It has been two months and Prussia is irritable. He keeps his phone in his pocket and denies the fact that he checks it every hour. Or every half hour. Same difference.

Germany watches Prussia out of the corner of his eye now, something he was prone to do prior to Prussia and Canada's meetings, looking for all the world like Prussia is about to throw himself over the stove or jump out a window.

"Brother," Germany says one day, when they are both driving home from grocery shopping. "Maybe you should take another vacation."

"What?" Prussia snaps, turning from the window. Germany doesn't even flinch.

"When you were taking those trips to...ah..." Germany searches for the name, on the tip of his tongue, and for once Prussia doesn't offer it up. "...wherever you were going, you were much happier. You didn't complain. I was worried about you, before. Maybe you should take another trip?"

"Fuck you." Prussia snarls, violently turning back to the window, and takes out his phone to check it again.

"Language." Germany reminds him, and swiftly blocks when Prussia attempts to chuck his phone at his little brother's head.

For all of Germany's well-meaning if slightly irritating speech, Prussia figures what he needs is some confrontation. What he figures is, he'll go to Canada's house, and he'll either give the kid a piece of his mind for making him walk out unfinished last time, or they'll fuck. Personally Prussia is hoping for the latter, but beggars can't be choosers (he is a bit miffed that Canada had the audacity to tell him to get out, much less that he actually _listened_. If that had happened during his reign as an empire, the kid would've been appropriately fucked until Prussia was done, and then Prussia would've probably stolen his TV on top of everything. He was, unfortunately, a little out of practice).

So that's really why he found himself in front of Canada's door. Not because he missed the kid, or the fucks, or really the whole satisfied feeling he got when he remembered _he_ was the only one who ever got to touch that body - because he was _mother fucking Prussia_ and no half-assed, barely born country was going to tell him to _get out_ without some serious consequences.

When Canada opens the door, he is half-turned back towards the hallway, laughing at something - when he sees that it's Prussia, his genuine smile drops immediately, and his eyes go wide. Then they narrow.

"Prussia." he says, with forced cordiality. "I didn't call you."

"Nope." Prussia says, and shoves past Canada into his house. "Is this a bad time? Cause we need to talk..."

"This _is_ a bad time!" Canada has gotten hold of Prussia's jacket and is now pulling him backwards, back towards the door. One glance at his face and Prussia can tell the kid is inwardly panicking.

"Yo, I know you're just _dyin'_ to take my clothes off," Prussia says slyly as he allow himself to be pulled towards the blond. "But you and I have some_really_ important things to discuss..."

"Matt, who is it?" someone calls from the living room, and Prussia stops, one hand on Canada's elbow, ready to pry him from his (really _expensive_) jacket.

America peers around the corner. "What the hell?" he demands. "Why's_that guy_ here?"

A smile slides across Prussia's face. Canada suddenly looks a million times more nervous.

"No reason," he mumbles, a shy, sweet little thing again, "He was just leaving - _right_, Prussia?"

Prussia ignores him. "Oi, farm boy, I was actually just about to have a talk with your brother. If you're interested in knowing what he's been up to the past couple months, though, stick around!"

Canada is bright red, something Prussia feels proud of. America is staring incredulously at his brother.  
Finally, Canada lets go of Prussia's jacket and says, in a small voice, "It's okay, Alfie. Can you go into the kitchen? I need to talk to Prussia for a second."

Warily, America gives Prussia one more suspicious look, but obediently retreats farther into the house.

Feeling quite triumphant, Prussia turns back to Canada, proudly. "So, anyways, as I was saying - "

Canada strikes him across the face, loose fist colliding with his cheek bone. The force of the hit makes Prussia twist from his torso, spluttering with indignation (and maybe a little bit of pain because _damn_ if anyone tried to say the kid didn't have any strength).

Canada is breathing heavily. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" he demands, face red. "Are you trying to humiliate me in front of my brother? I thought we agreed - nothing personal. No family involved. How would you feel if I came over to _your_ house and started acting like that in front of your brother?"

"Shit!" Prussia hisses, touching his face. "You didn't have to hit me, you little fag! Overreacting, much?"

"Don't you dare call me a fag." Canada snaps. "You don't have any right."

"Yeah? Here I come over to talk to you, real gentleman-like, and instead you punch me? How did _I_ know you were busy sucking up to your brother?"

"What is with you and my brother?" Canada demands, voice barely above a harsh whisper, conscious of his guest. "What do you have against him that makes you say these awful things?"

"Because..." Prussia stops. Canada looks at him, really _looks_ at him, and he looks so tired and upset and angry that it makes Prussia want to punch him in the face. Prussia rolls his eyes, squashes down something inside him that offers, _Yeah, look, this was sort of your fault..._

"Look, I'm just trying to understand why you're doing all this...with me."

"Understand?" Canada repeats, incredulously. "Why do you _need_ to understand? I asked you if you would do this and you said yes. There's nothing to understand." When Prussia is silent, Canada presses, "What, you would prefer I _paid_ you...?"

"Hell no!" Prussia spits. "I ain't no whore!"

Canada motions for him to shut up - there is brief, sudden movement in the kitchen. Prussia wonders how much America can hear.

"Then what does it matter to you?" Canada continues. "Why do you care so much?"

Prussia grits his teeth. "I _don't_ care, okay?" he snaps. "Christ, I just want to get back into routine, okay? If you're not going to call me then at least let me know you'll be away for a while, so I don't have to suffer fucking blue balls while you're out doing whatever the hell you do. Okay?"

Canada, startled, nods his head. "Okay." he agrees, adding, "Sorry."

Prussia rubs his forehead tiredly. "Yeah, yeah, you _will_ be sorry." he mutters, then awkwardly reaches out to pat the kid on the shoulder. "Go snuggle with your brother or whatever the hell it is that you two do."

Canada manages a bewildered but grateful smile, but he makes no move to open the door for Prussia, who has to awkwardly maneuver himself out of Canada's house again.

After he is gone, America ventures out of the kitchen, absolutely puzzled. "Do you guys hang out?" he asks. Canada shrugs, reaches out to lightly tuck the tag on America's t-shirt back against his neck.

"It's...complicated." he replies. America laughs.

"Haha, yeah? Well, be careful, little bro." America wraps a jovial arm around his shoulder. Canada laughs.

"Not _that_ little." he quips, the usual butterflies he gets when his brother touches him battering around inside him. Sighing, he tilts his head to rest against America's arm. The knuckles of his fist ache. The butterflies recede.

* * *

A week later, Prussia's cell rings.

"Want to 'watch a movie'?" Canada asks, quietly. Prussia can't help the grin that breaks out across his face.**  
**


	4. And Waste These Things

**Title:** Sucker Love (Part 4)  
**Author:** me!  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters:** Canada, Prussia - PruCan with a smidgen of unrequited CanAm  
**Summary:** for prompt #47, "every you, every me". Prussia thinks this can't be for real; Canada is scared it is.  
**Notes:** loosely based on Placebo's, "Every You Every Me".  
Warnings: violence, "foreplay" involving a lit burner (worse than it sounds, trust me), maple syrup used as a lubricant (so what's new?)

* * *

What this started with, Canada will later think (sourly), was his stupid hangnail, and ended with maple syrup in his boxers.

It's not like it was a big deal, but Canada's hangnail had been ripped open during an earlier tussle with Prussia on the couch, and now - as the both of them lie, sated, on the couch, Prussia's arm heavy against his bare back - Canada realizes that he's left a streak of blood across the side of Prussia's face.

"Shoot," he mutters, pulls himself up onto his hands and knees, and rests his hand on Prussia's face in order to wipe it clean. Prussia, who has been staring at the ceiling with a very satisfied smirk on his face, looks up at him, eyes narrowed in confusion. As Canada softly rubs at the dried blood with his opened palm, Prussia misinterprets his intentions and brings their faces together for a kiss.

And then something unusual happens - they kiss. They've kissed before, of course, both before and during sex, but it's always been short, passionate, and more than a little brutal (Prussia left a scar on the inside of Canada's lip once, in his haste to get to the younger nation's tongue). Canada isn't really the type of person to believe in soul-shattering, heart-melting, kiss-you-so-hard-your-lungs-run-out-of-oxygen-and-you-can't-really-breathe-but-you-don't-really-want-to-and-you-feel-like-you-could-stay-like-this-forever sorts of kisses, but this is one, and this has never happened before, and - and - Canada feels himself press up close against Prussia, cradling the older nation's jaw and nipping, softly, at his bottom lip as Prussia's tongue moves, slick and heavy, against his. Prussia ends up propped against the arm of the couch, arm still wrapped around Canada's waist, knuckles kneading pain-pleasure into the meat of the young nation's lower back.

And this goes on for several _minutes_, Canada thinks incredulously, studying Prussia from under his eyelashes, noting the relaxed look on the other's face, and this is really weird because usually Prussia's gone by now, out the door.

When they finally part, Canada is at a loss for words. The unusually personal thing they've just done leaves him awkwardly touching Prussia's cheek. He smoothes his palm down the ex-nation's jawbone, over his neck and off to the end of one shoulder. In turn, Prussia lifts a hand so he can place his thumb on Canada's chin. That tickles, and Canada makes a little noise. The soft look on Prussia's face vanishes, and he snickers, leaning forward to lick Canada's chin.

"What are you doing?" Canada demands, weirded out (and a little irritable, because Prussia had ruined a pretty good moment...)

Prussia doesn't respond, instead letting his tongue trail down the line of Canada's neck - he stops midway, nibbling at Canada's skin, before he applies harsh suction. Canada purrs, sifting his hands into Prussia's hair and pulling lightly, just enough to cause a little spark of pain, because even though they hardly talk throughout these meetings he _knows_ Prussia, and yeah, he definitely knows how to turn him on.

Prussia growls against his throat, nips, licks, sucks until Canada is practically curled against him, humming and sighing. This startling change in pace overwhelms Canada until he is putty in Prussia's hands. His skin is smarting by the time Prussia is done with him, and he is sure there will be a mark there tomorrow. Canada makes a little sound of protest when Prussia stops, and moves to suckle lazily on his earlobe. Prussia chuckles, but they both pause when the ex-nation's stomach grumbles loudly.

Canada laughs, hot breath in Prussia's ear, and Prussia scowls. "I didn't eat much today." he admits, pressing their heads together in annoyance and embarrassment. Grinning, Canada mouths over his earlobe again and suggests, "I'll can make something for you to take on the way home."

Canada flushes when he realizes what he just said - after a startled silence, Prussia's arm slides down Canada's backside and squeezes his ass sharply.

"Yeah? You gonna be my own little wife?" Prussia teases; Canada gasps, scowls, and pulls himself away so he can glare.

"Keep that up and you're going hungry." he warns.

"Aw, c'mon - "

Canada stands, unabashedly naked. Prussia leans back and admires Canada's long, taut legs, leading up to slim hips and round ass. Canada stretches, makes a little satisfied noise - Prussia folds his arms behind his head, openly ogling the blond's cock.

"Get dressed," Canada tells him, tossing his jeans at him. "And _maybe_ I'll make you something to eat."

"Pancakes, right?" Prussia calls as Canada pads out of the living room. An airy laugh is all he receives in return.

Left alone, all Prussia can think is that usually, he is gone by now. What happened to their first few rendezvous, where Prussia just got up and left, with no words exchanged, no offers of food and _certainly_ no wimpy kissing, no matter how nice it felt to suck on Canada's tongue (and yeah on his neck too, so what, it didn't really mean anything...).

And now, Canada is in the kitchen, probably flitting around making something and _damn how nice would it be if it was just Canada, naked save for a little apron...?_

Prussia feels his cock stir, again, and he groans, letting one hand trail over his chest. Mind made up, he sits up, kicks his jeans off the sofa, and leaves the living room.

To his disappointment, Canada is not wearing a cute apron but he has, wisely, chosen to don boxers when standing close to the stove. He doesn't hear Prussia enter the kitchen, instead humming to himself, a spatula held loosely in his fist. Prussia leans on the counter, smirks.

"You really _are_ making me pancakes, aren't ya?" he asks, laughing when the kids jumps, flushing. Prussia is still naked and Canada tries valiantly not to look down.

"Well, I don't know what else you like." Canada admits, and the almost-soft tone to his voice has Prussia feeling irritable. _Don't go all soft on me now,_ he thinks. _Don't you dare make me get my hopes up._

"How kind." he sneers, moving so he's trapped the kid between himself and the hot stove, so Canada is forced to press against him, feeling Prussia's hardness. The ex-nation slides his hand between Canada's legs, cupping his balls through his boxers, while his middle finger extends to rest at that sweet pucker. Canada takes a little breath.

"Excuse me for taking it upon myself to make you something to eat." Canada hisses, shoving his fist (spatula and all) against Prussia's shoulder in an attempt to push him away. Prussia grabs his wrist with his free hand, digs his thumb into the soft underside until Canada releases the cooking utensil with a whine.

"Fuck, _Prussia_!" he snaps as the spatula clatters to the ground. Prussia smirks, a dangerous, predatory (and _oh so attractive_) look in his eyes, and the younger nation feels something akin to excitement and arousal in the pit of his stomach.

"Only if you ask nicely." Prussia responds and, still holding Canada's wrist, yanks the kid's arm out from his body, forces it to hover over the lit burner of the stove. Canada freezes, meets Prussia's smouldering gaze with wide, tentative eyes. He can feel the heat on his palm and his fingers twitch. Prussia stares him down, their hips pressed together and _shit, the little bastard's enjoying it, feel that?_

"What, you lost your manners?" Prussia demands in an authoritative bark, the one he knows Canada likes. "Ask _nicely_."

Canada swallows, thickly, and asks in a little purr, "Please, let me go."

Prussia examines him, sees the look in Canada's eye that promises fun times, and grins. "Yeah? And what'll you give me if I let you go?"

Canada smirks, presses their bodies closer together. "Whatever you want." he hums, going in for a kiss. Prussia turns his head and laughs, squeezes Canada's balls one more time, and then releases him entirely. "Then hurry up and make me pancakes, bitch."

Canada splutters, unable to believe that Prussia had just done that, and yelped, "I am not your _bitch_!" he exclaims, picking up the spatula and throwing it at him. It bounces off the side of Prussia's head. "You asshole!"

"Oi! What the hell was that for?" Prussia demands, rubbing his head. "That fucking hurt!"

"Y-you can't just _do that_ to someone!" Canada stutters, furious. Fuck that stupid kiss, fuck whatever Canada thought it had meant, and with a burst of courage he steps forward, grabs Prussia by the shoulders and slams him back against the counter. Prussia laughs, though he winces when his spine collides with marble.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, sweetheart." he teases, until he moans - Canada has reached down and has his cock in an iron tight grip.

"Okay, okay, lay off!" Prussia pants. "Shit, I won't do it again, alright - !"

"Look, if you wanna fuck, we'll fuck." Canada pants, rubbing himself against the ex-nation, a hand still tight on his shoulder. "But don't just leave me hanging!"

Prussia retaliates by gripping Canada by the hair, thumb brushing over that one stupid curl that has Canada struggling to form words.

"Hey, okay, I might've been too mean." he smirks. "I'll make it up to ya, hold on..." he pushes Canada round so their positions are switched - now Canada is the one pressed up against the counter and Prussia pulls him so he is sitting, legs dangling, watching the man in front of him.

Prussia briefly leaves to turn the stove off, grabs a bottle of maple syrup, and saunters back towards the younger nation, eyeteeth showing. Canada shivers, especially when a pale hand is trailed up his leg.

"Hold this for me." Prussia gives him the bottle. "Don't drop it or I'll fucking kill you."

Canada moans a little, but obediently clutches the bottle with both hands. Prussia fishes Canada's cock out of his boxers and crouches in front of him, rubbing a hand absently up and down the shaft. Canada lets out a little whimper.

"Mmm...Prussia..."

Gilbert raises a hand, motioning for the maple syrup. Flushing, Canada hands it over, and watches breathlessly as Gilbert pours syrup into his cupped palm, rubs it between his hands, and slathers it over Canada's prick.

"Oh my God," Canada gasps, "Prussia, a-a-_ah_!"

"Calm down!" Prussia laughs, looking up at him as one hand pumps him, 'schlurp'-ing through the syrup. "I know you have a boner for this stuff, Matt, but jeez - !"

Canada laughs at the absurdity of it all, breaking off in a sigh as Prussia stops and eyes his sticky cock.

Prussia smirks, licks his lips. "Now here's a sight I wouldn't mind seeing more often." he exclaims, before leaning forward.

It's strange - Prussia is almost hesitant, uncertain in his actions as he puts Canada's cock to his lips, presses like he's giving a kiss. Then his jaw slowly opens, and Canada impatiently watches the head of his cock sink into Prussia's mouth. Prussia slows, brings one hand up to swiftly stroke the lower half of the shaft. Canada squirms.

Prussia pulls back a bit, as if his confidence has failed him. His red eyes look troubled as he crouches there with Canada's cock in his hand. Canada opens his mouth as if to say something (_like what? 'Good job'?_), but Prussia seems to realize how vulnerable he looks, and instead - after licking his lips clean of sticky syrup - goes back to sucking resolutely on Canada's cock. Canada settles for making breathy, encouraging noises, one hand propping him up on the counter, the other clenching and unclenching in Prussia's hair.

"H-how's it taste?" Canada finally laughs, pushing himself forward on the counter a little as Prussia's hand sneaks under to grab his balls.

Prussia pulls back, a little trail of spit hanging between his lips. "Super sweet." he snickers, giving the head of the younger nation's cock a playful little flick with his fingernail.

Panting, Canada pushes the back of his head a little, and with a snort Prussia allows himself to be guided back down.

Canada is seeing stars, making little noises that are even pushing _Prussia_ to the limit. His cock is stiff between his legs and he reaches a hand down to stroke himself.

"P-Prussia!" Canada yelps above him. "I - I'm gonna - "

"Mm-hmm." Prussia sounds a bit impatient, bobbing his head faster, and then all Canada can see is white as he shudders and leans back on the counter, fingers white against the marble, a strangled sound ripping from his throat.

Prussia, eyes squinted in concentration, focuses on swallowing without choking (hey, it's been a while, okay?). Canada watches Prussia's face, as he wipes subconsciously at his chin and stands up unsteadily. His cocks still feels sticky.

Slyly, maybe a little curiously, Canada wrinkles his nose, tilts his head, and says, "Must taste gross."

Prussia eyes him, before grabbing his hair and pulling him into a kiss, tongue pushing past his lips, tasting of maple syrup and semen and _God_ Canada's blushing.

"Something like that." Prussia says, looking down at Canada's flaccid, syrup covered cock with amusement.

Sitting there, on his kitchen counter, Canada recalls a conversation he and Prussia had, before all this started.

_"Let's get one thing straight." Prussia snapped, sitting squarely on Canada as he lay, gasping, on the floor. "If we're gonna do this, I'm **not** the one who will be taking it."_

__

Canada nodded. "O-okay."

_"And, I don't suck **anyone** off." the ex-nation finished, with a smirk. "Sorry to disappoint you, kid."_

So why was Prussia changing things now?

Canada realizes that the rules have changed, that the man in front of him has just done the incredibly personal act of swallowing his cum, and Canada knows nothing - absolutely _nothing_ - about him.

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**A/N: **Good? Bad? WTF? Let me know! Thanks for reading!


	5. Extra: Happy New Year!

**Title:** Sucker Love (Part Five)  
**Author:** me!  
**Rating:** R  
**Characters:** Prussia, Canada - maybe-not-quitePruCan  
**Summary:** for prompt #47, "every you, every me". Prussia thinks this can't be for real; Canada is scared it is.  
**Warnings:** an awful attempt at writing "dirty talk", mentioned-but-not-really (suspected?) NethCan  
**Notes:** loosely based on Placebo's, "Every You Every Me". Not really a continuing chapter, sort of an extra, just something I thought I'd put up for Xmas - but yeah whatever I am LATE. Have a happy New Year everybody!

* * *

"I'm going to - mm - be late for the meeting - "

"So what? Who the fuck calls a world meeting right after Christmas? Aren't you supposed to wait until goddamn January?"

Canada sighs. "Prussia, seriously, I have to go."

"So I'll be quick." Prussia is sitting on Canada's chest, that stupid conniving grin on his face, and Canada feels his face heat up.

"I'm waiting." Canada sighs, attempting to stretch out his cramped arms. Prussia has tied off his hands above his head with a discarded piece of Christmas ribbon, looped around the headboard of his bed. It's funny - Canada doesn't think twice about letting Prussia choke him, hit him, and fuck him. But to give up such control as to allow someone to tie him up is something Canada can't yet bring himself to do. The ribbon is loose enough that Canada can break free if he wants, but there is that delicious tension that allows him to imagine a loss of control that has him tingling.

Prussia grins and unzips himself, guiding his cock to Canada's lips. With a laugh, Canada takes him in. Sighing, Prussia smooths Canada's hair back from his forehead so he can properly take in Canada's expressions - his crinkled brow as he shifts to adjust the angle, his eyes flicking upwards once in a while to meet Prussia's, lips red and wrapped around the ex-nation's cock.

"You shouldn't even go to the meeting," Prussia suggests. "No one's going to be there. Or England's going to be drunk. Either one."

Canada pauses, lets Prussia's cock hit him in the face as he backs off to take a breath. "How would you know?" he laughs. "You never come to meetings, anyways."

"Maybe I should." Prussia muses. "We could sit together, and you could give me hand jobs under the table."

Canada snorts, turns his head to seek out Prussia's cock again with his lips. Prussia makes a choking noise as the blond nibbles at the head, neck straining to slide his mouth fully around the Prussian.

"Okay, okay, _blow jobs_...we'd just wait until your brother started talking, then nobody would notice us." Prussia kindly leaves out the part about no one noticing Canada in the first place, so Canada feels generous enough to resist chomping down on the arrogant bastard's cock.

Prussia shifts, pushes himself up on his knees so he can really begin thrusting into Canada's mouth.

"I bet you'd really like all of that stuff, huh Canada?" he asks with a grin. "You get off on imagining people finally paying attention to you? Maybe I'll come to a World Meeting and bend you over the table in front of all those nations."

Canada gives a muffled moan, tugs a little uselessly on the ribbon. Reaching behind him, Prussia cops a feel of Canada's erection.

"Imagine what your daddies would think?" he continues, kneading fingers into the stiffness of Canada's neglected cock. "England wouldn't be able to look you in the eye. He'd definitely be able to tell you and America apart after that. And France, that pervert, he'd probably get off on it." The subject of America is mentioned quickly and afterwards avoided - Prussia learns some boundaries, after all.

"P-mmf!" Canada sputters, squeezing his eyes shut and sucking harder. Prussia feels that familiar tug in his gut and pulls back, watching the thread of saliva that dangles from Canada's lips.

Canada bucks, rips his hands from the tangled ribbon, and lunges for Prussia, eyes glazed. Prussia rolls with the pounce, the two go falling across the bed and Prussia twists, rolling Canada under him. He pins the struggling blond with a well-placed arm, and reaches down to finger him. Canada huffs.

"You always say...such embarrassing things!" he whimpers, clawing at Prussia's back, a piece of ribbon still twisted around one of his fingers. Prussia cranes his neck so he can bite Canada sharply on the shoulder.

"Whatever, you little brat, you get off on it." he chuckles, as Canada humps insistently against him.

"You should tell me what else turns you on." he suggests as he pushes slowly into Canada. "Instead of me saying such_embarrassing_ and _obviously_ false things."

Canada flushes, mutters something into Prussia's hair - his arms are wound crushingly around Prussia's neck, bringing the two of them flush against each other. Prussia's thrusts are unusually slow, and there is something sensual about the two of them moving at this pace, so unlike their normal harried rhythms.

"Don't be shy," Prussia sneers. "Who else would give you a boner if they were watching us fuck at the World Meeting?"

"...therlands." Canada repeats when prompted, and Prussia tastes something, odd, sour and unfamiliar, in his mouth.

"Mm, yeah?" he keeps his voice even (and if he sounds testy then Canada misses it), stops moving so he is simply resting inside Canada. The younger nations gasps, wriggles underneath him in an attempt to get him moving again. "What _about_ the Netherlands? You want him to watch you get fucked?"

"..." Canada is struggling for words, face bright red, erection pressed between their two bodies.

"Oh come on, you can do it." Prussia mocks. "Or do you want him to _fuck_ you? Is that who you get wet for?"

"I w-want him to watch!" Canada exclaims, squeezing his arms tighter around Prussia. "A-and touch me, ohpleaseGilbertmove!"

_Gilbert_. Prussia lunges, Canada arches off the bed, and they fuck with abandon - no kisses, no slowness.

"Wanna know how big Holland's cock is?" Prussia hisses in Canada's ear. "Wanna know how big it'll look when he's masturbating to me fucking you?"

Canada screams, digs his fingernails into Prussia's back, and comes. Prussia seizes him by the throat and shakes him.

"Don't you _ever_ come while thinking of someone else again." he snarls in the blond's face. "Not while I'm in you, you little slut."

"Fuck you!" Canada spits (physically _spits_ at him, if Prussia wasn't so close to the edge he would've slapped the kid), squeezing himself around Prussia's cock. Prussia laughs bitterly.

"You bet I do."

He thought Canada would be angrier at him, that maybe his "dirty talk" had gone a bit too far - but as soon as Prussia is finished, spilling himself inside the blond, Canada kisses him on the neck, breathes a chuckle into his ear and detaches himself, looking sated. Prussia swears the nail marks on his back are bleeding, the little bastard.

"Thanks." Canada laughs. "But I'm still going to be late."

As Prussia sits there, watching Canada dress, an urge comes over him, something he hasn't felt in ages, something fueled by boredom and curiosity and maybe a little jealousy (_because maybe Canada wasn't just babbling out of lust, maybe he really did think about the Netherlands when Prussia was fucking him and it would make sense, why would Prussia be Canada's first choice for a fuck buddy anyways - _) and he opens his mouth to say:

"I'm coming with you."

* * *

to be continued

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AWESOME, SET OFF FIREWORKS AND SHIT GUYS IT'S ALMOST 2011!


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